


On an Island in the Sun

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Desert Island, Desert Island Fic, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if we're stuck here?"</p><p>"Permanent vacation? Well, if they don't, we build some kick ass shelter and go all Swiss Family Robinson. Or Lost."</p><p>"Please not Lost."</p><p>"Aw, come on, wouldn't that be awesome? Maybe we were all chosen."</p><p>"I hope you were chosen to get eaten by the monster."</p><p>"Wow, harsh."</p>
            </blockquote>





	On an Island in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the CCAUW theme "survive."
> 
> It ended up being Chris and Darren playing on an island though er.

"This is all _your_ fault."

" _My_ fault? How is this _my_ fault? It was Lea's idea!"

"Excuse me, you are not blaming this on me, I wasn't the one driving the fucking boat!"

"No, that would be your stupid excuse for a boyfriend."

"Hey!"

"Who decided it was a good idea to let the Canadian drive the boat?"

"Drive it? He fucking crashed it into a reef!"

"Dude, no one else saw it, so shut the fuck up!"

A sharp whistle cuts through the shouting, and they all fall silent. Ashely stands there, fingers in her mouth, and gives the group an entirely unimpressed look.

"Why don't you all shut up?" She calls over them. "You're yelling is doing nothing but giving me a fucking headache."

"She's right," Darren pipes up. "Cory crashed the boat, it sucks balls, but we aren't that far and people are gonna notice when we don't return the boat."

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna have to _pay_ for it."

"Shhh," Lea whispers, rubbing his shoulders.

"Does anyone have a cellphone that isn't totally fucked?"

Everyone takes out their phones, but most of them had ended up in the water.

"Mine's working, but I have shit service," Darren says, frowning at it.

"Same," Mark adds.

"Mine is gone," Chris supplies, miserably.

"Okay, so, we can't call for help." Darren bites his lip, looking around. "Well, I guess we should build a fire."

*

"UGH," Chris yells in frustration, throwing the sticks into the sand. He is not _made_ for this. He hadn't even wanted to go on the _stupid_ boat, and now they're crashed so far away from the mainland that he can't even _see_ it, and just—UGH. He watches Survivor, he watched Lost, he's even indulged in Gilligan's Island a few times, but that does not mean that he is prepared to survive on a fucking _island_.

"You okay over here?" Darren drops into the sand beside him, crossing his legs and looking completely complacent with the whole situation.

"Fuck off," Chris mutters, and Darren laughs. Chris glares back.

"I'm pretty sure Mark and Cory have the fire, you know. We can all share." Darren bumps their shoulders together. "And it's more so that people can find us. It'll only be a few hours. I mean, the boat's a fucking _rental_ and all of us have managers biting their nails back at the hotel. Chill out."

"What if they _don't?_ " Chris looks at Darren. "What if we're _stuck_ here?"

"Permanent vacation?" Darren jokes, but Chris just replies with his most unamused look. "Well, if they don't, we build some kick ass shelter and go all Swiss Family Robinson. Or Lost."

"Please not Lost."

"Aw, come on, wouldn't that be awesome? Maybe we were all _chosen_."

"I hope you were chosen to get eaten by the monster."

"Wow, harsh." But Darren is still grinning. "I'm gonna try to make a spear, wanna help?"

"This is just like a game to you, isn't it?" Chris asks, dully, and Darren shrugs.

"Look—I can either be a tense ball of I'm-gonna-die stress like you are, or I can make it a novelty. Because we're gonna be fine."

Mark and Cory start yelling, and Chris and Darren both look over to see a wisp of flame before it flickers and dies. Lea slaps Cory's arm.

"Honestly, not my first choice for group of people to get stranded with." Darren heaves himself to standing. "Fuck a spear though, I want to go explore. I don't think this island thing is too big. Want to come?" He holds out his hand, and Chris eyes it warily. Really, all he's doing is pouting on the beach and probably getting sunburned. He isn't the best company—even Ashley opted to help Harry and Chord with a shelter rather than keep him company. Chris sighs, and takes Darren's hand.

"Aren't people going to get mad at us for ditching?"

"Because we're helping so much right now? Maybe there's like a mountain in the jungle and I can get cell service there." Darren grins, pulling Chris to his feet, and Chris dusts the sand from his shorts and the bottom of his shirt. "Hey!" Darren yells, and Naya and Jenna look over from where they're sitting in the sand. "We're going to explore! If we don't come back, it's because we're sacrifices the island demanded!"

Chris laughs, whacking Darren on the shoulder as they break through the tree line.

"Dork."

*

"I imagined more bamboo," Darren muses as they stroll. It's a lot cooler under the shade of the trees, but also a little muggy. Chris can feel himself sweating in his t-shirt, and there's an underlying urge to just take it off.

But, he's with Darren, so he's fighting it pretty strongly.

"This isn't _the_ Island, Dare." Chris pushes away the frond of a plant he doesn't know the name of. "I don't know why you would _want_ it to be, anyway. Like, everyone in that show dies."

"Woah, hey, that is so not true." Darren spins back to look at him with an affronted look on his face, as if Chris has said something to personally offend him.

"Okay, not true!" Chris interrupts as Darren opens his mouth to continue, because he doesn't exactly want to listen to one of Darren's weird tirades right now. "Anyway, the people who do survive are all main characters."

"We're main characters," Darren insists, as they keep walking. Chris can hear the sound of the ocean already, so this island must not be very big at all.

"In what? Life?" Chris asks, dryly, carefully navigating himself over some boulders. He stumbles, but Darren is right there, catching his arm as if he's been waiting for Chris to lose his footing. _Jerk_.

"Sure. Why not?" Darren grins at him. "We're all heroes in our own stories."

Chris groans and rolls his eyes.

"You are a walking Confucius quote."

"…pretty sure Confucius didn't say that," Darren hums, contemplatively, one of his eyes skewed up a bit, and Chris nudges his shoulder so that he stumbles backwards a bit. But he just continues grinning that infallible Darren grin of his, and Chris just rolls his eyes again, with more affection than he certainly means to.

"Come on." He urges Darren forward. "Weren't we looking for a mountain or something?"

"Yeah, we… Haven't even gone remotely uphill, I don't think there are any mountains in this jungle."

"So we're just wandering around then?" Chris frowns. He wants to get off this island, and back to his hotel, and secure a bag of rice or something to see if he can possibly revive his phone from its unfortunate death-by-drowning.

" _Chris_." Darren falls back a step, so that they're walking side-by-side instead of in a line. It's a tighter fit, the path really isn't very wide, and it makes Chris uncomfortably hotter. But he doesn't push Darren away, or shrink back when Darren throws his arm casually around Chris's shoulders and squeezes. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I have a hypothetical sense of adventure," Chris replies simply, eyes flitting to take in their surroundings. "Adventures are fine in my head, but I don't actually need to experience one."

"I don't believe that." They walk forward at the same pace, and every time Chris has to squeeze closer to Darren to avoid running into or tripping over something, the back of his neck heats up. He just hopes Darren can't tell. "Write what you know, after all."

"Contrary to popular belief, I haven't actually lived through any instances involving magic."

"Lame," Darren responds, immediately, and Chris huffs out a laugh—he can't help it.

"I have a very reliable and active imagination." Chris feels himself getting defensive, his arms coming in closer to his body.

"I'm not saying you don't. But I also don't think you can say that you don't have the urge to write right now."

"I always have the urge to write, that's cheating."

Darren stops abruptly, spinning Chris around and then grabbing his shoulders. It happens so quickly that Chris feels a little dizzy from it, and when his eyes focus, Darren is staring at him intently. Chris feels like he might start to squirm under his gaze.

"I mean like _right now_. Not just about anything, but about this. The way the soil gives, the way the foliage overlaps, the sound of the ocean, the muggy heat."

At least Chris isn't the only one unfortunately aware of how fucking _hot_ it is.

"Well… When you put it like that—" There's sound all around them, an underlying soundtrack to their voices, and if situations were different, it would probably be incredibly calming. It's the sound of bugs and birds, of wind and waves, and Chris can feel that itch in his fingers. He knows there really is something to experiencing something before you put it down on paper, but it's not always possible. So he makes due with what he has.

Maybe more than he should, but it's a system and it works for him.

It certainly twists the whole situation on its head, though. They're stuck until someone finds them, whenever that happens, but Darren's right, in a way. Chris could look at is as an opportunity.

Darren doesn't say anything, but his smile softens, becomes easier, and then his hand is sliding down Chris's arm before taking his hand. Chris's breath stutters uncomfortably.

"Come on. I think we're almost to the other side." He tugs twice, and then leads Chris towards the crashing of waves.

*

The beach on the opposite side of the island (if it _is_ the opposite side, Chris isn't sure they managed to walk straight through the jungle) looks basically the same. There are more rocks, going out into the water and making it impossible for boats to get too close. Chris realizes they were lucky to hit the island from the other side, otherwise someone might have actually gotten hurt.

"You know, when they told us we were coming out here for press, this is sort of what I imagined," Darren murmurs, quiet, as he stares out at the water. The sun is somewhere to their right, rather than glaring into their eyes, and Chris wonders what time it is.

"You imagine Cory crashing a boat and getting us marooned on an island?"

"You're such a fucking drama queen." But Darren smiles. "No, I just mean like… This." Darren is still holding Chris's hand, and he's pretty sure it's sweaty and hot and horrible, but… It's also pretty far from horrible, too. He gestures with his free hand, towards the water and the deadly rocks and the sprawling sand. "Just, no bullshit, nothing."

"You signed up for the wrong life, then," Chris mutters, eyes cast out over the water.

"Nah," Darren replies, almost instantly, voice practically dismissive. "I just need to…" Darren stops, as if he's having trouble putting his thoughts into words. "Remember, I guess."

Chris's eyebrows furrow, and he turns to look at Darren, mouth parting at the way his profile is highlighted by the sunlight.

"Remember what?"

"Everything." Darren looks so concentrated, staring out at the ocean, and Chris wonders what exactly Darren is trying to encompass with the word _everything_. "But mostly that there will always be times without bullshit."

Chris huffs out a laugh and finally looks away.

"Aren't you eloquent?"

"Fuck you," Darren says, cheerily, and Chris snorts a laugh again. There's a tug on his fingers, and he looks down at their linked hands before looking up at Darren again. "Want to walk back along the beach? Maybe we'll find something awesome."

"I hope it's a soda machine," Chris sighs, longingly.

"Now that would be some Lost level shit right there."

*

They take their time, which actually surprises Chris. He actually feels a lot calmer, after having walked around with Darren, and it feels more like a day at the beach than being shipwrecked. Chris is actually a little glad they aren't back with everyone else yet, because then it will be real again—where they are, what happened, and the panicky stress that starts to suffocate Chris like shrink wrap.

With their flip-flops dangling out of their free hands, they walk with warm sand rushing up between their toes, and the sun drifting lower and lower in the sky in front of them. Chris is glad he has sunglasses, even though he is definitely getting raccoon eyes and a sun burn from all the UV exposure.

"I would have loved this as a kid," Darren muses. They've mostly been quiet, occasionally broken by Darren humming or Chris mentioning something random, or one time when Darren had insisted he saw something but Chris really thinks it was just a reason to drag both of them into the foamy water as it rushed onshore. They'd laughed, and Chris had hit Darren, but it had actually felt really good. He kind of wants to walk right where the sand turns wet, letting the ocean rush up around his ankles.

"You say that as if you aren't loving it now," Chris mutters, and Darren pushes their shoulders together to nudge him.

"No, but like—you know Tom Sawyer Island at Disneyland?"

"You mean Pirate Island?"

"Fuck that, it's Tom Sawyer Island," Darren refutes. "But like, you run through the caves and the trees and the bridges and pretend."

"What did you pretend?" Chris asks, voice quiet and curious as he looks at Darren with his head cocked to the side, hoping he doesn't like, step on a sea urchin or something (it could happen).

"That I was an explorer. Or a pirate." Darren grins, bright an unashamed. "Sometimes I liked to pretend I was raised by wild animals and raised in a jungle."

"…like Tarzan or Mowgli?"

"Man, you can't ask that. You're asking me to choose between gorillas and wolves, and that's just not cool."

"You never got that specific?"

Darren lifts one of his shoulders in a shrug.

"Nah. Wild animals was good enough for me. Used to drive my mom insane when we'd go and eat, and I would just tear into my food without using my hands."

The laughter startles out of Chris, and he ducks his head down.

"Oh my _god_."

Darren's grin is big and luminous, as if he's immensely proud of making Chris laugh.

"So," Chris starts, when he's regained his breath and his voice, "is that what you're pretending now?"

"…am I coming off like I've been raised in the wild or something?" Darren quirks an eyebrow, looking mock-offended.

"No more than usual, I guess."

"Dick. I'm going to throw you in the ocean." Darren laughs, bumping their shoulders together again. "Unless you're like angling for me to act like I've been raised by the loving, wild jungle animals that _definitely_ live here."

"Definitely," Chris agrees, because they've seen like, _two birds_ their whole entire walk. "Wait, but—no, I'm not."

"Think I'd need to be wearing less clothes than this…"

"Oh my god, please do no take off your clothes."

"But it's _hot_ ," Darren whines, pouting, and Chris just shakes his head, exasperated. "How am I supposed to pretend I'm Tarzan with a shirt on, Christopher?"

"By _pretending_."

Darren opens his mouth to retort, and then stops, humming contemplatively.

"Wow, touché."

Chris doesn't reply, lifting his sandy foot and tapping it playfully against the back of Darren's calf.

"So is this like Brendan Fraser or Disney?"

"Um, is that even a question?" Darren scoffs. "Besides, Brendan Fraser was George of the Jungle."

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ ," Chris says, dryly, and Darren gives a little, self-satisfied nod. "Wait, so who does that make me? Please not a monkey."

"'Course not." Darren tilts his head to look at him and smiles. "You'd obviously be Jane."

Chris stumbles in the sand, but catches himself. The word _obviously_ bounces around in his head, making him feel light-headed.

"I mean, you got that whole British thing down. Sort of. And, wait, look." Darren raises the hands swinging between them, still laced together and Chris had sort of forgotten, it had started to feel so normal. He jerks them to a stop, and then spreads their fingers outward until they're palm to palm.

It feels a lot more intimate than it should, and Chris pulls his hand back first, feeling like he's been burned. His face feels hot, and he's not sure if it's just from the sun anymore.

"Oh, hey, say _hullabaloo_ , then we'll know for sure," Darren continues on, like _a moment_ didn't just happen, and they start down the beach again.

*

The sun is starting to skirt the horizon when Darren stops them.

"We're almost there," Chris tells him, feeling confused. They've stopped a lot, and been walking slowly, but there's no way they're that far from the others now. Chris is glad that the beach circles the little island in a smooth ring of sand, and they weren't sidetracked by cliffs or rocks or anything.

"Yeah, but the sun is starting to set." Darren gestures out towards the water, as if Chris has somehow missed it.

"Okay?" Chris draws out in a question, and then Darren plops down in the sand, patting the space next to him.

Chris has had to jump in ocean water and then air dry, trudged through some sort of jungle, and spent a very long time trudging along a beach barefoot with Darren. Sitting in the sand isn't exactly going to make him feel, or certainly look, any less disgusting than he does. He gives a suffering sigh of consent before settling, stretching his legs out in the sand so that it melds around him.

"So we're going to watch the sunset over the ocean."

"Because we can't do that at home."

"Oh, be quiet," Darren snipes back. "It's different, and you know it. First, I don't hear any cars, or any people, so there's that."

"Yes, I suppose there's that."

"Second, there is just ocean and sky in front of us. No ships, no weird curves of land, no clouds." Darren presses his hands into the sand behind him and leans back. "And third, we could never do it, just us."

Chris knows Darren is right. They could, maybe, but it would take a lot of planning, and it wouldn't feel as free as it does right now.

They have time. The sun inches down, starting to dye the sky and water in beautiful shades of pink, orange, and yellow, of purple and indigo. When Chris had first moved to LA, when he'd been close enough to the ocean to just drive, he'd done just this. No one knew his face, or him, or anything about him. It had just been him on a cliffside bordering the PCH, watching the sun sink over the water, and feeling breathless.

He tells Darren as much, and they just talk. About home, about work, about everything and nothing, and sometimes they just sit, listening to the water and their own breathing.

It's… Almost romantic. If a few things were different, if it wasn't _Darren_ , because, well. It just couldn't be Darren. But maybe there would be a picnic, and maybe they'd be holding each other, and maybe they'd marvel at the way the sunset filtered them in different colors and laugh and kiss.

Chris just holds in his wistful sigh, knowing full well Darren would ask him about it.

Darren is animatedly recounting the first time he saw a sunset over the ocean in San Francisco, and Chris watches waves crest and crash, both sounds mixing together and pleasant. But then Darren stops abruptly, and Chris is pulled out of his calm little headspace, turning to look at Darren curiously.

"Dare?" He asks, confused as to what prompted Darren to just stop in the middle of his story. Did he see something? A rescue plane or boat or _anything?_ Chris turns to look over his shoulder, but he can't see anything noteworthy. He turns back, feeling more perplexed, but Darren is just looking at _him_. It could even be called staring, and intently staring, at that. "What is—"

Darren swallows Chris's question—quite literally. Chris makes a startled noise as Darren's mouth crashes against his, just a slightly wet press of lips that lasts for a few seconds that feel more like decades than anything. It ends, and Chris sits there, eyes still open and never having closed because, well… He's pretty sure he's in shock.

If he isn't, he probably should be. Because Darren just kissed him, without warning, without context, and Chris is kind of stunned he's even still breathing.

"I—" Darren starts, and then glances away. Chris is still staring straight at him, eyes wide open. He's afraid to even blink, like he might shatter the moment.

"You kissed me," he finds himself saying, voice not even loud enough to qualify as a _whisper_.

"…yeah, I did." Darren looks like he wants to run his hand through his hair, and then remembers that it's covered in sand and thinks better of it.

"…you _kissed_ me," Chris repeats, because he's not sure if Darren actually realizes what he did. That he just leaned over and kissed Chris without any prompting of some outside force or from behind the mask of someone else. That was Darren _kissing_ Chris. On a beach. At sunset.

Chris pinches himself, and hisses when it hurts.

"Yeah, I know. I was sort of there." Darren glances away, and he looks uncharacteristically nervous. "Um, I—I'm not good with apologies I'm not sure if I mean. But I don't want you to be mad at me, I probably should have like. Shit." Darren forces out a laugh. "Asked or some bullshit first."

"Darren…"

"I just… I don't know. It's like in movies, when two people experience something life threatening, and it creates like that instantaneous realization."

"…I don't know if I'd call Cory crashing a boat into a reef life threatening."

"It just felt… Like I should."

Chris has never seen Darren struggle with words like he's suddenly struggling them right now, but he feels a pang in his heart that makes him look away and worry his lip.

"Should?" He can't help but dwell on the word.

"No, not like—" Darren laughs, pressing the back of his wrist against his eye.

"We can just forget it happened, Darren," Chris whispers, leaning forward on his knees and drawing swirls in the sand. He shrugs, wishing he could fold further in on himself, or even just get up and leave. But the island is only so big, and he knows Darren. If he walks away now, Darren isn't just going to let this rest.

"No." Darren's hand curls around Chris's arm, and Chris looks up, surprised. "I don't want to just forget it. I kissed you because I wanted to, and it felt _right_."

"Talking about your childhood makes you want to kiss people?" Chris teases, because he can't exactly wrap his head around everything that's happening. His lips still feel like they're tingling.

"No, sitting on the beach and watching the sunset with _you_ makes me want to kiss _you_." Darren holds his gaze, and his eyes feel like they're burning into Chris's, and Chris is pretty sure they're missing the sunset completely.

"Oh," is his eloquent reply, because what does he say to that? His brain can hardly function with that sort of information. His breathing feels tight, like his lungs won't expand properly. "So are we just friends who kiss now?" Chris has seen Darren kiss friends before. He does it all the time, like it's nothing.

Chris has just never been one of those friends, aside from a few drunk and slobbery kisses to the cheek that he'd pretended to be disgusted by. He hadn't really been.

"If that's… All you want to be?" Darren's eyes flick, unsure.

"I—" Chris swallows, and then hums in a high pitch, looking down at the sand. "Wow." He feels giddy in a suddenly punch drunk way, like all of his confusion wants to bubble out of him as hysterical laughter.

"Basically," Darren agrees, even though there's nothing to agree with, but Chris is pretty sure he gets it even without Chris putting it into words. Sometimes Darren is good at that. "Is that a yes?"

"That's a… A lot of stuff has happened today, and I don't know if my body can cope with it." Chris can practically taste the disbelief in his own voice, and he's staring back out at the setting sun and the ocean. Darren nudges against him.

"Let me take you out, on like an actual thing." Darren hesitates, then says, "an actual date."

"You want to take me on a _date?_ " Chris eyes widen incredulously as he turns back to gape at Darren, and Darren's smile is a little forced—like he's trying to make it look easy rather than a touch nervous.

"Um. Yeah. Pretty sure I do." Darren laughs, like he doesn't really believe what's going on, either. At least they're both in the same boat (horrible metaphor to use given their circumstances, but it works).

"We should probably, um, talk about this." _Dammit_. But no, Chris knows he can't just say _yes_ and pretend like he's not reeling from the whole situation. Because nothing really makes sense to him right now, and he can't wrap his head around it, and he feels a little light headed which might have more to do with the heat and lack of water and food than the kiss or what Darren is saying. It just seems random, at the end of it all. Like Darren had read through the depths of Chris's mind and acted on it, like it wouldn't need an explanation.

Oh god, what if he's hallucinating? He's tempted to pinch himself again.

"Okay," Darren whispers, and then reaches to grab Chris's hand where it's resting in the sand. He doesn't pick it up, just curls his fingers around Chris's and squeezes, and it makes Chris's lips twitch into a smile.

"Later? When I'm for sure not suffering from some kind of heat stroke delirium?" Chris clarifies—it's partly the truth, and partly him not wanting to overwork the moment anymore than they probably already have.

"No heat stroke delirium, promise. But alright. I can work with later." Darren's grin is crooked, and Chris really hopes that someone finds them soon, because he intends on later to be in a few hours, when they're back at the hotel and he's ordered enough food, water, and Diet Coke from room service to feed a small army. He wants it to feel real, and not like he's trapped inside some sort of fantasy world, which is what a lot of the afternoon has felt like.

After all, it's not every day he gets to explore an island with Darren.

"In the mean time, I think we're both missing a pretty fucking fantastic sunset."

Darren's right. They've hardly paid attention to it. So Chris looks away from Darren, even though it's like glancing away from a mirage—he's half afraid he'll disappear, and Chris will wake up face down in the sand and alone. But Darren's grip on his hand is very warm, and very real, and very grounding. He holds back, like a balloon tethered to an anchor.

They fall into silence again, but he feels Darren shift closer, until he has to raise their hands and settle them in his lap because there's no room between them anymore.

Chris finds that, despite how warm and thirsty and hungry he is, and despite having been stuck on an island for hours, he can't really find much to complain about with Darren pressed up all along his side and holding his hand.


End file.
